Taylor frowned at the big Marine. "I've done worse that sneak onto an island inhabited by walking shit and their Lazarite buddies. It'll be hard, but I have an idea or two. It’s time you guys learned more than just hit and run."
Simmons turned to Domini and Thompson. "If this maniac is volunteering for a suicide mission, then I volunteer as well." Before either of the naval officers could say a word, Simmons looked at the one-eyed soldier. "So what's the plan?"
28 June 2034
Recon Team
Roanoke Island
Simmons sat in the front of the first of two rubber rafts, each of which had quiet electric motors, staring at the abandoned beach ahead of them. Through the night vision goggles the world appeared green and eerie. There was a new moon and with the overcast of an oncoming storm, no stars gave any glimmer of light. At a space of a mile offshore, both oversized rafts, black for night ops, shut off the motors, the occupants using oars for the most silent approach they could make. There were thirteen in the recon team. If anyone had a problem with the number, they didn’t voice it. Eleven marines, Ensign Ballard and Taylor, who didn't like leaving his shotgun behind for a silenced HK, but he understood the need for it. Hearing was the one sense the zombies appeared to have in abundance. The team carried all types of silent weapons from nylon garrotes to hand axes. Perhaps the most important equipment they carried were laser designators, which would be placed in appropriate areas and turned on, the better for the navy bombers to home in on.
Along with their equipment, each member of the team was wired into a commnet, everything they said heard back on the Nimitz.
"Beach ahead, stand by."
Simmons on one boat and Corporal McKenzie on the second peered up and down the landing area for movement of any kind. There was a clearing 200 yards from the beach to the shore at this point.
"Sim, Mac here. About 100 yards to the left, figure moving near the tree line."
Simmons tracked left. As he moved his head in the general area that Mac had pointed out, there was a pinpoint burst of light. Simmons turned his head quickly, thinking; what kind of idiot smokes on watch? At least it wasn't a zombie.
The boats hit the beach and one marine, Private Sue Parker, slid out of the second boat and lay prone on the shore. She was one of two snipers on the team. Raising her rifle, she flipped down the small bipod and sighted in on the area where the sentry stood. To her night scope, the cigarette might as well have been a lighthouse. Sighting just above the bit of light, she tapped her trigger. Even from where they were, the team could hear the thud of the falling body. Securing the boats and covering them with brush, the team assembled near the corpse.
Simmons tapped his commlink. "Mac and Tender, check the immediate area. Kill anything you come across. Parker and Pride; find some ground and make sure nothing comes near the boats. Crowley you stay here with the boats. Anything happens to us, hightail it back to the ship. No arguments."
Mac came back with nothing to report, Tender came back with an ear. "Another unlucky Lazarite," was all he said, tossing the ear onto the sand.
Simmons patted Taylor on the shoulder. "The good sergeant here has more experience at sneaking around zombie infested areas, so he's in command right now. Our mission is simple; gather Intel, and then get the hell out. If we don't communicate with the ship by 5 am, Thompson’s going to paste the whole island, worry about things later."
Taylor unlimbered his weapon. A veteran of the zombie wars on land, he said, "Move slow; keep your eyes open. Keep your masks handy. I know some of you don't like wearing the armor, but it can save your life. It's saved mine more than once."
Taylor moved up into the tree line, followed at decent intervals by the Marines. He could feel sweat trickling down his ribs, soaking his skin. It was a familiar feeling. He wished that even one of his team, Chung or Houston would be his choice, were with him. Then he would feel better about being out here.
They'd been on the island a half an hour when one of the scouts tripped over a line staked into the earth. Freezing for a moment before rising, she stood peering through her NVG's when she saw that the line was attached to something. Pulling back a few feet she followed it to a camouflage net. Moving forward slowly she could hear the shuffling of feet. Freezing again, she brought her weapon up and moved slightly forward. The netting was hiding a fence of some kind and behind that fence stood the dead. Hundreds of them in every shape and form she'd ever seen or heard of. Holding still near the base of a tree, she tapped a button on her commlink.
Simmons froze as the signal came through. Raising a fist the rest of the team stopped instantly. Scuttling backwards, Taylor moved alongside the big marine. "What's up?"
"Champion found something, an enclosure full of zombies."
Taylor gritted his teeth. "Well, what are we waiting for?" Simmons led the small team further inland to see what Champion had discovered.
At that moment, Champion was hiding in some bushes while two Lazarites stood over her, laughing about what they were going to do when the invasion began.
"I hope we take some captives," the first one said. "I like the way they beg once they see what happens to others."
The second one snorted as he peered at the unmoving dead behind the fence. "Ah, you just want something new to fuck, something that will fight back." They both laughed, as the first said, "Ain't that the truth."
Thanks to the talkative duo, Champion learned that there were several of these enclosures on the island, all full of very hungry dead. All ready to be released at a moment's notice. Champion was about to slide away when one of the Lazarites unzipped and sent a stream of hot urine onto her. With a mental groan, she lay there as the fluid pooled on her back.
The other Lazarite slung his rifle and started to unzip as well. "I heard the Admiral say that the unbelievers think there are still people living here. Maybe they’ll be less careful." He started to laugh as he urinated, this time Champion silently slid aside, raising her weapon as she did.
As he pissed, the first Lazarite bragged, "I can't believe how long Jurgens fooled those assholes. How come we haven’t defeated them yet?"
He started to zip up when Champion rose her voice low, "Because Lazarites are all assholes!" Before either of them could make a move, she triggered her silenced submachine gun and added a third eye to both of their heads. As their brains exited the backs of their skulls, some of the matter splattered through the slatted fence onto the zombies who began to growl and fight each other over the bits of warm meat.
Simmons came out of the underbrush. He took one look at Champion then at the two Lazarite corpses. They wouldn’t be coming back but the evidence had to be taken care of. With a nod at two marines then at the fence, Simmons gave a silent order. The two corpses were lifted up and tossed to the zombies who would leave no evidence.
Taylor unlimbered his laser designator. "I think this is as good a spot as any."
Simmons nodded as Champion told him what she'd heard. Behind the fence, the zombies who hadn't gotten any fresh meat were growling and pawing at the wooden slats. Tender moved back a little saying; "Maybe we should get away from the fence, Sarge. They don't sound too happy."
Simmons turned and stared at the dead. "From what Champion heard, we don’t have to be here at all. Missions over, let's get the hell out of here."
28 June 2034
U.S.S Nimitz
Bridge
Thompson sat in his command chair as Domini spoke on the radio with the evacing recon team. He felt tightness in his chest, but he'd felt it before, knew it would pass. Seeing that Domini had things in hand, he decided to close his eyes and take a quick forty winks.
He never felt it when his heart stopped, an unknown aneurysm choosing that moment to burst, killing him in an instant. Too many long stressful hours and age had finally taken their toll.
Domini put down the radio mike and saw that Thompson's head was slumped down on his chest. Laurie frowned. Her commanding officer and friend looked to
o loose to be merely sleeping. Suddenly the 1MC roared to life: LIFE MONITOR OUT ON THE BRIDGE! SECURITY DETAIL TO THE BRIDGE!
Domini looked from the speaker to where Thompson, what had been Thompson, was struggling to its feet that familiar look of pain and hunger in its dead eyes. Domini stepped back, unholstering her pistol as she did. With a stagger and a moan, the zombie growled, stored saliva dripping out of its mouth. Domini moved back, keeping an eye on the zombie, forcing it to follow her. The rest of the bridge crew drew their weapons but were in each other's line of fire. Only Domini had a clean shot. Eyes beginning to tear, she raised the weapon as the zombie staggered toward her, hands outstretched, and fired. The bullet slammed through the zombies left eye, exploding the back of its head, driving it out onto a bridge wing. With a shudder, it hit the support and toppled backwards and over, falling into the dark ocean. Domini ran forward and looked down in time to see the splash Thompson’s body made as it was swallowed by the sea.
Domini stood in the fresh pre-dawn air and saluted the ocean that had taken her friend and mentors body. Tears flowed freely down her face as she thought; I'm captain now. At least until Enclave command decided someone else should be. Wiping her face, she re-entered the bridge. Before she could say a word, Lt. Comdr. Charlie Earl, the ships Engineering Officer, but cross training for bridge duties, turned from the radio post, and said, "Recon teams on the horn. They're in trouble!"
Earl was putting it mildly. Taylor, tearing ass through the forest, being chased along with the rest of the team by a mass of zombies, had said, "We're fucked now." He was likely right. They already lost two marines, whose screams had finally faded away behind them. Taylor cursed himself for getting complacent as they evaced toward the beach. Using a different path away from the enclosure, their laser designators set, one of the marines tripped over a wire. A wall hidden by foliage came down, and behind it were at least a hundred hungry zombies. The fallen marine was pounced on instantly, fingers digging into his face, flesh peeled from it like the skin of a ripe banana. A second marine lunged forward; submachine gun blazing, blowing several zombies back, but they were packed in too close to fall. The marine emptied a magazine into them, but they still surged forward, crushing fallen zombies, overwhelming him. It all happened so fast the rest of the team barely had time do more than take a few shots and run for it.
Letting the others pass him, Taylor fell back a bit wishing the rest of his team were here. The marines were good, but their hit and run raids from a beach with air support didn't prepare them for things like this. They didn’t have enough hard experience in dealing with the zombies. As he fell back, so did Simmons. Taylor grunted into the radio (his mask on good and tight) and said, "We're fucked if can't get to the beach."
Simmons grunted a reply and lobbed two incendiary grenades back down the path they were following. The white phosphorus was deadly on the zombies, who dried out quickly once their circulatory system stopped working. The grenades blazed into life, making NVG's useless. Anyone dumb enough to stare at a WP explosion with light enhanced vision could end up blinded.
Simmons grabbed Taylor and gave him a shove. Together the two soldiers tore off through the woods, unheeding of leaving a trail, following the rest of the team.
On the Nimitz, Domini took command quickly. "Launch the ready planes!"
Earl said, “You got it!”
Domini nodded. "As soon as those planes are off the deck, get four more ready. Jaquez, get the Zumwalt on the line. I want it ready for fire support missions."
More bad news awaited Taylor and Simmons when they reached the beach. The team was successful in putting some distance between themselves and their pursuers, but the rafts were wrecked. A Lazarite patrol had stumbled on them In the brief firefight, all five were killed, but not before they wrecked the priceless rafts. The Marine guard, Crowley, had been killed.
"Just fucking great," said Simmons watching as Tender, in frustration smashed the skulls of the dead Lazarites with his entrenching tool. They were already shot through the head, but Simmons let the man vent his frustration. If the Nimitz wasn’t on the ball, they were all going to die here, why die pissed off?
The radioman, Dickerson came over. Simmons stared at him, waiting for yet more bad news. Dickerson grinned. "The Zumwalt is standing by, helos and an airstrike on the way."
Champion, crouching near a dune, pointed back the way they'd come. "They better get here fucking quick because the zombies are here!"
Simmons and Taylor turned. Where the forest touched the edge of the beach, the first zombies were arriving. Having been held in the enclosure for so long, unused to whatever passed for freedom in their destroyed minds; the dumb things were staggering about, seeking, as always, a meal. While the marines were starting to dig in, two zombies fell over, their heads destroyed, courtesy of Ron Pride, who was stroking the stock of his Remington. A Lazarite in the rear, waving his one arm to the zombies and pointing at the beach went next. A hollow point slug decapitated him, hot blood erupting out of the stump of his neck. Like jackals, the zombies turned and tore into the collapsing body.
Simmons went into action. "Pride, you keep an eye out for Lazarites, take any out any zombies who look smart. The rest of you, keep those incendiaries handy, shoot for the head. We're getting out of here people, all of us. Dickerson! You're with me!" Walking over to the dead marine, Simmons took a look at the bullet wound in the man's chest, whipped out his K-Bar, and stabbed the corpse through its eye. "Crowley comes with us. He's getting a proper service." Simmons looked back toward the slowly advancing zombies. There was room enough… "Tender, Luckman, Mulchahy, chop these fuckers up," Simmons nudged a Lazarite corpse. "And toss em out there. That may buy us a few more minutes."
Dickerson took his handset away from his mouth. "Sarge! Carstairs is coming in with a load of nape!"
Simmons spun and looked at the sky. The intruder was off on the horizon, a glimmer of silver in the first rays of dawn. The plane was low, almost suicidally so. "Get the markers out; make sure you point ‘em the right way. We got any claymores?"
Champion reached into her pouch, handed the mine over. Simmons took it and set it, carefully aiming the device away from the Marines lines, toward the zombies, some of whom had stopped to snack on the tidbits thrown out to them by the marines.
Piloting the first Intruder, Linda Carstairs was never so happy to be flying again. Carrying a full load of napalm, she was homing in on the laser designator, left by Champion. ECM on, since there was no telling what Jurgens people were supplied with, she came in low, popped her air brakes and let loose on the zombies. The plane lurched up, as it was free of the first two canisters. Looking back, she saw the bright orange of the napalm fueled explosion rise into the sky. She was close to her own troops, but she was sure they'd rather have her be close than the flesh eaters. Behind her, the second intruder following the light from another designator dropped his ordnance. Before the laser-guided bomb could detonate, he pulled up and away, glancing back to see what havoc the attack was raising.
Taylor stared as the zombies withered in the flames of the expanding cloud of napalm. Crouching he brought up the MP5 and fired at a zombie that was getting too close. Its head disintegrated and the body toppled over.
Simmons came over and crouched down. "Stay low! The Zums about to open fire."
Taylor glanced at his new friend. "I'm glad all I get to do is sneak into fucking zombie infested cities. At least there, we can sneak away. This shit sucks!"
Simmons laugh was lost as the Zumwalts 76mm cannon shells came screaming over to smash into the beach. Next to him, Ensign Ballard, with Dickerson near by gave a thumb’s up. "Tell 'em to fire for effect."
In CC, Lieutenant Commander Chan suppressed a grin. Low light TV cameras were showing him exactly where the shells from the Zum's cannon were landing. The enemy was disappearing into bloody clots as the shells hammered the beach. Chan was using proximity-fused shells, set to explode two feet off the deck. One thing naval g
unners had learned from the past was sand softened any impact, so this was Chan's solution.
"Keep firing," he ordered his gunners. "Until the helo's signal they're ready to pick up."
Chan turned back to the screen, watching the silent explosions with a look of pleasure. He certainly enjoyed taking it to the enemy, but he once again found himself wishing for a battleship's big guns.
Dickerson crawled to Simmons. "Helo's are five minutes out."
Simmons nodded and activated his commnet. "All right people. We've got evac coming in. Let's do this by the numbers, all right?'
Bombs expended, Lieutenant Carstairs, followed by Ensign Milovac, wagged their wings at the marines on the beach, and turned back to the ship. Milovac glanced down at the tendrils of flame rising from the explosions and was glad he was in the sky and not on the ground. He promised himself the next time those guys had some down time; he was buying the drinks.
Tiger Lee swerved in the sky, followed by his wingman, Lt. (j.g.) Dexter Brooks, and switched to guns. Carrying a 20mm Gatling gun in its nose filled with depleted uranium shells made the F-22 as deadly on a ground attack as it was in the sky. Centering his reticule, Lee opened up, grinning mirthlessly as he blasted zombies, rocks, small trees, and whatever else in his line of fire. The rounds, made to destroy tanks annihilated everything in their path. Easing back on his stick, Lee pulled up, checking his counter as he did. 420 rounds left. Plenty left to expend on the zombies. For this mission anyway, with only one Enclave able to make them, uranium rounds were in demand and their availability was limited. After this, it would be back to regular ammo.
Setting up his own attack run Brooks who had recently 'graduated' from flying Intruders and Prowlers forgot to activate his ECM. Beneath and behind him a pair of Lazarites with a stinger waited patiently. As Brooks started to descend, they fired. On a jet of smoke, the missile slid upwards and toward his right engine.
Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 46
